


the long, long way down

by ray (rencounter)



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series), Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, Pocket Monsters: Red & Green & Blue & Yellow | Pokemon Red Green Blue Yellow Versions
Genre: Blood, Character Study, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Family Issues, Flirting, Gen, Gun Violence, Minor Character Death, Minor Injuries, Pokemon Battles, Serious Injuries, Underage Smoking, Unethical Experimentation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-02
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:01:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 10,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26246086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rencounter/pseuds/ray
Summary: It's less of a fall and more of a brutal shove off the edge. Eventually you forget you should be more afraid of the wind howling in your ears than what it might be like to catch yourself and choose to climb back up.Or, a series of memories from Giovanni's life.
Relationships: Giovanni & Mewtwo, Giovanni/Silver's mom, Madame Boss & Giovanni, Sakaki | Giovanni & Silver
Comments: 6
Kudos: 19





	1. in which Giovanni makes his first and only friend.

**Author's Note:**

> some of these chapters were written a long time ago and others were written a less long time ago, but I wanted to post all of them in chronological order so what I'm saying is this will get better trust me

Giovanni ran into his room, slamming the door behind himself in excitement. For weeks he’d been begging Mother for a Pokémon, and today she’d _finally_ given him one of his very own. Giovanni hardly cared at all what type it was—all that mattered was that it was _his_. Unable to wait any longer, he pressed the release button on the ball, his heart thudding wildly in his chest.

A flash of red light, and—it was a Meowth. The small cream colored cat Pokémon stared up at him, coin glinting under the ceiling lights. Giovanni laughed out loud in a burst of joy. The noise made the Pokémon tense up, and when Giovanni reached down to touch her she reared onto her hind legs, hissing at him.

“Woah,” he said dumbly, shocked by her reaction. When he didn’t back off, Meowth took a swipe at his outstretched hand, raking her claws across his skin. Pain sparked up his arm and Giovanni reeled, jerking his hand back and staring at the three red lines now slowly welling up with blood.

Why? What did he do wrong? He looked up from the wound in time to see Meowth’s tail disappearing into the darkness beneath his bed. Were all Pokémon like this at first? His hand hurt but it wasn’t bleeding that much; he’d probably scared her trying to pet her right away. Maybe you were supposed to introduce yourself to your new Pokémon?

Giovanni laid down on the floor and peered under the bed, spotting Meowth’s reflective eyes right away. She hissed at him again. “Sorry,” he said, “I didn’t mean to scare you, I was just happy to see you.” Meowth didn’t move at all, prompting him to continue. “My name is Giovanni. You’re my first Pokémon, you know.” That didn’t really seem to change her opinion much. “You can come out now, if you want. I won’t try to touch you.”

When she still didn’t budge, Giovanni sat up and huffed in frustration. This was nothing like he’d imagined it would be. Why was his Pokémon being so stubborn? They were supposed to listen and follow orders and always do what they were told, not _this._ But then… maybe orders were the key?

“Meowth, come out right now!” he demanded. A moment passed, and when nothing happened he looked back under the bed, anger rising inside him. “I said come here now!” he shouted.

There was flurry of movement and then Meowth was very close to his face, lashing out with her claws once again. Before Giovanni could register what was happening she’d hit him across the cheek, causing his face to burn with white hot pain. With a gasp of fear he scrambled away from the bed, clapping a hand against his face to try and lessen the stinging sensation. It hurt much more than his hand had, and the suddenness of the attack had him breathing hard and fast.

When he lifted his hand away it was red, and slick with blood. The sight had the dual effects of terrifying him and enraging him, and with a snarl he picked up Meowth’s Poké Ball and flung it as hard as he could against the wall, hoping it would break. 

Meowth growled at the loud noise it made upon contact, and it fell to the floor still in one piece, rolling underneath the bed.

The ball hadn’t broken. It felt like something had, though. Giovanni's face twisted up he released a loud, hiccuping sob that turned into many more. He hadn’t even had his Pokémon for an entire day and he was already a failure. There was no way he was ever going to be good at battling; he’d never go on a Pokémon adventure or win any badges, and he was _never_ going to impress Mother.

He had no idea how long he cried for, but eventually as his weeping faded into whimpers he noticed the odd sounds coming from beneath the bed. Slowly, and from a safe distance, he looked underneath. As his eyes adjusted, he could see Meowth hitting her Poké Ball around, batting it back and forth between her paws.

Giovanni watched, motionless, until one of her smacks sent the ball rolling out into the room. Meowth chased after it immediately. She froze for a moment when Giovanni lifted his hand to wipe away the tears on his cheeks, but as soon as he put his hand down again she was back to playing. She swatted at the ball and chased it when it rolled away, pouncing on top of it and then falling to her side to kick it with her feet. Now that Giovanni could see her better, it looked like she was skinnier than she should have been. If he fed her, she would probably like him more. She already seemed happier playing with the Poké Ball.

He’d overreacted, he realized. Meowth wasn’t like other stupid Pokémon that could be ordered around; she had thoughts and feelings just like he did. If he wanted her to trust him, he’d have to earn it. The bad feelings that had overwhelmed him eased a little bit after thinking that. If Meowth was just special and Giovanni wasn’t _actually_ bad at dealing with regular Pokémon, he still had a shot at his dreams of becoming the strongest trainer in the world. He wasn't a failure.

Clutching at the thought, Giovanni hurried off to try and find some Pokémon food, leaving Meowth to chase her Poké Ball around the room.


	2. in which Giovanni faces the consequences.

The flier was _really cool_. Giovanni had pulled it down from a telephone pole and stuffed it into his bag, smuggling it into his room to look at closely without someone glaring disapprovingly over his shoulder. His mother would be mad, if she saw it. It was _exactly_ the kind of thing she hated; she had rules about strangers and going places without her permission (permission that she never, ever gave) but Giovanni knew that this would work out okay.

It was an ad for a Pokémon Trading Card Game tournament, no registration required. Giovanni _never_ got to play, or if he did it was only with grunts who didn’t get it and didn’t care to learn. Sometimes his mother’s executive Marc played with him and he was good, but that was only once in a while. He wanted to play with other kids who knew what they were doing; the tournament would be the best way.

No one would have to know, either. It was on a Saturday: his day off. He’d sneak out when he normally stayed home or practiced with Meowth. No one would be looking for him, and no one would even notice he was gone.

The poster stayed at the bottom of his desk drawer and Giovanni thought about it every day for the whole two weeks until the event, nervously anticipating what was to come.

When the day finally arrived, he executed his plan flawlessly. He’d slipped from Rocket HQ without catching anyone’s attention or suspicion and been on his way without a hitch. The only negative was that he’d be on the video cameras around HQ, but he was allowed to leave if he wanted; his backpack containing his binder and deck boxes was the only suspicious thing about the departure, and even that wasn’t too notable. He’d be fine.

More than fine, as it turned out. Giovanni was nervous upon arriving at the event, but nervousness was an unproductive feeling and he quickly acclimated to the new environment, joining in the excitement and the games. His lack of practice was evident in the first few rounds, but after warming up with other kids who actually knew the game, he was playing much better than before. It’d be hard to go back to playing with dumb grunts after the real challenge some of his opponents were putting up, but Giovanni didn’t let the thought get him down.

The day continued on with Giovanni completely losing track of time. He couldn’t remember ever having grinned so hard for so long, and by the time the winners were announced his face was almost sore from it. Even the fact that he hadn’t placed couldn’t kill his mood.

He left the venue wondering when he could next get away to play, already plotting in preparation for the next event. He was still lost in thought when he heard someone with a deep, adult voice call his name. Giovanni turned, eyes widening at the sight of Marc standing near the exit, arms crossed over his chest.

Time seemed to grind to a halt, slowing down with each measured step the executive took toward him. Giovanni could hardly process his presence, it was so opposite of the day he’d had. He couldn’t think, either, his gaze locked onto Marc’s gray eyes, usually soft as down but now hard like steel.

"What are you doing here?" Marc asked when he was standing up close to Giovanni. _What are you doing here_ , like it wasn’t obvious, like he didn’t already know. Of all the people to find him, though, Marc was the best case scenario.

"Don’t tell her," Giovanni said, getting straight to the point. It was almost a command; it could’ve been one, if he hadn’t felt his throat constricting around the words. “You can’t tell her."

Marc looked down at him, so much taller and older, his eyes icy and incomprehensible. Giovanni hadn’t ever seen him look so distant and cold. Marc shook his head just slightly—just enough to make Giovanni’s heart skip a beat and let his worries slip out of his control.

" _Please_ don’t tell her." His voice cracked on the plea. _Don’t beg._ That was what his mother told him, when he asked her for anything. _Don’t beg. It shows your weakness._

And yet, this was Marc, who played cards with him and gave him pastries and always knew when he didn’t want to talk and offered him a penny for his thoughts to get him to do it anyway. He couldn’t help but beg. "She’ll be so angry. Please don’t tell her."

Marc’s expression didn’t change. "If your mother saw you like this…" His voice was soft, but the words were anything but.

Giovanni cringed. He knew what she would think, what she would say. The thought of the harsh words she’d hit him with sent prickles across the back of Giovanni’s eyes, but he did his best not to let his feelings show.

"But, you _can’t_ tell her." He didn’t want to look at Marc anymore, but he made himself do it anyway. _Don’t be a coward._

"Giovanni, if she ever found out…" Marc’s face finally broke into a frown. Normally when Giovanni was bothered by something Marc would bend down to be at eye level with him, put a hand on his shoulder and give him a half-smile to try and cheer him up. Now he stood still, arms crossed as he continued to frown.

The ‘if’ made Giovanni attempt a half-smile of his own, hardly daring to hope. If Marc didn’t want her to find out either then he could get away with it! Of course Marc would do that for him; Marc hadn’t _ever_ let him down before. "She won’t! She’ll never know if you don’t tell her!"

Marc was silent, allowing the small spring of trust to bubble up within Giovanni’s chest. It was okay, it was going to be okay. He owed Marc a _billion_ pennies but everything was going to work out—Giovanni let out a shallow breath of relief, only to have it strangled and twisted in his throat when Marc spoke again.

"No. She has rules for a reason." Marc didn’t seem to be looking at him at all anymore. His vacant gaze drifted, not making eye contact.

Giovanni couldn’t help it when a few stray tears sparked to his eyes, dripping down his face. No. He’d said _no_. No, no, _no!_ With a rough hand he smeared the tears away, shaking his head. “They’re _stupid_ rules! They’re not fair!" He was throwing a tantrum now, and completely embarrassing himself—he couldn’t help it, though. His chest hurt, a heavy weight pressing down on it while a tight hand gripped his heart and _squeezed_.

How had he ever though he’d get away with this? He didn’t know how Marc found him, how his whole plan had fallen apart, but he should have expected it. His mother always had a way of catching up to him, of punishing him when he had a moment of happiness. His dad wouldn’t have been like that.

"Other parents want their kids to have fun," he said, "They do fun things and let their kids have friends and let them have Pokémon battles and challenge gyms." _They come home and take you on adventures and talk to you and,_ "She _hates_ it when I’m happy."

More tears found their way from his eyes as he thought of the way things could’ve been. It wasn’t often he thought about his father, not anymore, not since Marc had become his friend, but he felt a rush of guilt thinking about him now. He’d given up—he’d stopped wanting his dad to come and now… would he ever? He’d be stuck with his mother forever. "It’s not fair," he said, voice shaking. 

"Giovanni." Marc’s vacant expression was gone, replaced by something hard, someone Giovanni no longer recognized at all. "That’s _enough_." It was maybe something a father would say, if Giovanni couldn’t hear the plain disgust in the man’s voice: his mother’s words, through Marc’s mouth.

Marc wasn’t supposed to be like that. Marc wasn’t _mean_. Giovanni was crying and sad and Marc… 

Marc didn’t care about anything but following his mother’s orders. He wasn’t any different from the rest of them.

So, fine. He’d shut up. He wouldn’t talk anymore.

Marc lead him away, back to headquarters. When they arrived the executive took him straight to his mother and explained the situation. Giovanni bore it all in repentant silence, hanging his head and nodding at the right times when Madame Boss explained how useless disobedience was in an organization, waiting for it to end, not crying again even when she demanded his backpack and he handed it to her and knew that it would be the last time he ever saw any of it.

She dismissed him, and that was it. He still refused to talk, and Marc offered him nothing to get him to open up again. No one cared that he was staying silent.

Eventually he gave up, and no one cared when he spoke again, either.


	3. in which Giovanni didn’t mean to. It just happened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter contains graphic violence and death, so please read (or skip) at your own discretion

Outside the club he was too young to enter, Giovanni was smoking a cigarette he was too young to have. 

He was there with a group of older Rocket grunts. Or at least, he’d _gone_ there with them. Only one had stuck by his side, the others dispersing almost immediately upon arrival. Giovanni didn’t even know his name, but man had offered him the cigarette and they’d gone outside together to smoke.

"You’re the boss’s kid, right?" He was taller than Giovanni by about five inches, broader and more heavily muscled—definitely a Team Rocket enforcer, or something like that.

"Yeah, I am," he said, taking another drag on the cigarette and holding it a moment before blowing the smoke away from the Rocket. 

The man raised his fist, and Giovanni watched it move in slow motion as it came up to punch him in the face.

Time snapped back to full speed and Giovanni hit the wall behind him hard, then fell over, red flooding his vision. Pain jolted through him and his head spun like the whole world had been flipped upside down. He raised a shaking hand to touch his face, but the Rocket kicked him hard in the gut and he doubled over, unable to breathe except in choking gasps.

He needed to get away. He needed to get the Rocket away from him.

Giovanni fumbled for his belt to grab one of the Poké Balls there, _any_ of them, it didn’t matter as long as he could release one, but the Rocket grabbed his wrist and twisted and squeezed until Giovanni gasped from the pain and stared up at his attacker.

"This is for my brother," he said, yanking Giovanni by the arm so he fell to his back.

Giovanni tried to scramble away, but the Rocket pinned him down by straddling him and pressing one heavy hand into his chest. Giovanni twisted beneath him, trying to pull the hand away and think through the pounding in his head. The Rocket pulled on his buckle and Giovanni tried to stop him, but the action provoked another punch to the gut. Giovanni groaned in pain, clasping his hands to the spot long enough for his attacker to tear off the belt containing his Pokémon and toss them far out of Giovanni’s reach.

Panic hit him like another physical attack as he stared into the Rocket’s furious face. What was he gonna do to him? No, stupid question. Giovanni already knew. It didn’t matter who this man’s brother was or what had happened to him. The Rocket was going to hurt him. He was going to hurt him _badly_.

The Rocket shifted to kneel on his chest, one knee driving into his ribs and shortening his breath. Giovanni knew what was coming and instinctively raised his hands to protect himself, but the Rocket pinned one of his wrists down and swatted the other hand away, then punched him hard on the cheek, once, twice, three times in short succession. Bright spots flared across his vision and his free hand swiped ineffectually at the man’s arms in a continued to struggle to get away.

He kicked out, trying to bring his knee up to hit his attacker in the side. It did nothing to stop the Rocket from hitting him, and the fourth punch caused something in his nose to snap like a dam breaking and release a rush of blood down his throat and over his lips. 

He’d felt something else, though, something he’d forgotten was there. The press of cold metal against his ankle reminded him of the knife he’d never used before but kept with him anyway at his mother’s insistence, and Giovanni bent his knee and fumbled for his ankle, coughing from the blood running down the back of his throat.

The Rocket hit him again and he felt blackness swallowing him up, going blank for a moment as his hand touched the metal. He only had one try, or the man would notice and take the knife like he’d taken his Pokémon. Giovanni grasped the switchblade and flicked it open, closing his eyes and focusing all his energy on the arc of his arm that would drag the blade across his attacker’s side.

The man howled in pain as the knife connected and the knee on Giovanni’s chest disappeared, allowing him to roll over, head spinning, the knife still clutched in his hand. He wanted to give in to the vertigo and collapse on the pavement and never move again, but another noise of pain from his attacker gave him the strength to push himself into a sitting position.

Giovanni turned, one eye nearly swollen shut and the other half closed in exhaustion. The man looked like a dark shadow crouched on the ground, ready to lunge, and Giovanni’s panicked energy narrowed into one sharp point of focus, a dagger of fear that gave him the strength to lurch forward and strike out with the blade to cut the man across the chest before he could launch another attack. The Rocket lifted his hand instead and Giovanni cut him deeply across the palm, bright blood welling up in the second before he could shout and pull it away.

Adrenalin made Giovanni’s heart thump hard, harder, blood rushing in his ears. He still felt afraid, scared that the man would jump up and pin him again and take his own knife and turn it against him. The thought pushed Giovanni stab at him again, the blade driving deep into the man’s chest. He stared at Giovanni with an expression of shock and pain, and Giovanni saw his own terror reflected on his attacker’s face.

He put a hand on the man’s shoulder and stabbed him one last time, the knife sliding easily into his gut. The Rocket slumped forward, falling face-first to the ground.

He was saying something, maybe. Giovanni couldn’t tell over the impossibly loud ringing inside his head. His hands were slick and the knife slipped in his grasp, the electric burn of pain cutting across his fingers and making him finally drop the weapon. It clattered to the pavement with a metallic ring, but Giovanni didn’t see where it landed. He could only stare and stare at what he’d done.

His attacker was whimpering, wheezing, one hand clutching his stomach as red coated his lips. His face was turned in Giovanni’s direction but his eyes were unseeing, gazing into nothing as he died. Giovanni watched him choke and cough and gasp for what seemed like an impossibly long amount of time before he went still, eyes blank as he ceased to move.

Giovanni’s hands shook and the dizziness in his head made everything around himself and the body whirl in a sickening blur. He stared at the lifeless face, then slumped over into the growing pool of blood, blacking out before he even hit the ground.

* * *

He woke up with only one eye and a hand that couldn’t move, and a cold terror settled over him before he realized they were only bandaged. He was in the infirmary at Rocket HQ, the morning sun filtering in the window at his bedside. The events of the night before rushed back to him, and he turned to the door in panic to see his mother standing there.

His breathing picked up at the sight of her, mind blank but for the memories of what he’d done. The motionless shape and the blood pooling underneath and spreading out to touch him and falling towards it and—

"Breathe, Gianni." She approached him, slowly, like he was a dangerous Pokémon, coming to stand beside his bed.

His hands shook in the panic that was consuming him, senseless and fearful above the undercurrent of mounting horror. What had he done? What had he _done?_

The hand on his shoulder brought him halfway out of his thoughts but made him tense, nearly flinching out of her grasp. Rather than pulling away, her hand moved slowly across his back. He felt the mattress beneath him dip as she sat beside him, bringing her arms up around his chest to pull him close and hold him tightly.

He pressed his face into her shoulder, wrapping his arms around her and squeezing back, feeling overwhelmed and unable—unwilling—to think clearly beyond the eyes that stared without blinking, that bright white amidst the pale and lifeless face.

He was crying, he realized. It came softly at first and then harder as he held on, continuing until he could no longer breathe, until his nose was congested and it impossible to swallow without a painful pressure that made him gasp for air. His mother rubbed circles into his back, telling him to take deep breaths, telling him to be calm, telling him that it would be okay, that she would make it better. He cried the harder for her words, belaboring his breathing just to keep her arms around him even though he was seventeen and a gym leader and he was too old to be crying into his mother’s arms for the first time in his life.

She didn’t let go, even when the tears dried up and his breathing evened out and he was too ashamed to look at her. She pet his hair, and he finally pulled back.

She looked soft, her violet eyes round and watching his. Giovanni shuddered out a deep breath, feeling empty, and she leaned forward to put her lips to his forehead in a kiss. He let her cup his bandaged cheek and watched her lips move as she said, "I love you, Gianni. It will be okay."

He nodded mutely and she caressed his face again before standing up. "Get some sleep. When you wake up this will be nothing more than a bad dream."

Giovanni lay back in the bed at her command, watching her turn away and head for the door. He closed his eyes rather than watch her leave.

A bad dream. That was all. That was all. That was all.


	4. in which Giovanni fights an attractive stranger.

"Hello, handsome. Care for a battle?"

With his Nidoking at his side, Giovanni was clearly marked as a trainer. Aboard the S.S. Anne that fact drew a lot of attention from bored passengers looking for a bit of excitement, so it wasn’t surprising to receive a challenge from one of them. The compliment didn’t hurt either, and Giovanni smiled unabashedly when he turned and saw his challenger.

Her red hair was drawn up in a ponytail that fell past her hips, with a pair of dark sunglasses hiding her eyes. The Dewgong beside her suggested either experience or wealth—either way, its presence cemented her appeal.

"It would be my pleasure," he said, withdrawing a Poké Ball. "Three on three?"

She tapped her chin with a Kalosian tipped nail in appraisal. "Sure… if that’s all you’re up for."

She clearly didn’t know who he was, a feeling Giovanni had grown unaccustomed to. Most people in Kanto had heard of the hotshot Viridian Leader and his unstoppable team of ground-types, and were sufficiently awed upon meeting him. He’d given out several autographs on this cruise alone.

"If you want to fight my full team, you should come by my gym instead."

She tilted her head slightly at the mention. "A gym leader, hm? Maybe I will, then." She smirked, placing a hand on her hip. "Consider this a warmup."

Her confidence was amusing—and, admittedly, alluring. Giovanni found himself hoping she would be able to back it up as he stepped back to make space for his Nidoking. A well-trained Dewgong was a not-inconsiderable threat to his team—best to take it out as soon as possible.

"Whenever you’re ready," he said, bracing for an Aurora Beam. Nidoking would attack in the opening after the Dewgong made its move, and hopefully finish it in one blow. His Pokémon stood at the ready, aware of exactly what Giovanni had in mind.

"Ice Beam!" she called, catching Giovanni off guard. The Pokémon was much stronger than he’d been expecting, and as a blast of frigid blue energy shot out from the Dewgong’s horn he found himself rapidly reconsidering his strategy. There was no way they were going to take Dewgong down in one hit, not if it was experienced enough to know a move like Ice Beam, and Nidoking wasn’t going be able to withstand a second attack.

The ice hit Nidoking hard, leaving it dangerously close to a knockout. The Pokémon staggered but refused to fall, righting itself to go on the offensive. "Focus Blast," Giovanni commanded. A ball of energy formed between Nidoking’s claws and it took aim at the ice-type, throwing the ball with all its might.

Giovanni stared intently as the attack zeroed in on its target, but the Dewgong was faster than the blast. It slid out of the way in time to narrowly miss being hit, and its trainer called out for another Ice Beam. _Damn._

"Focus Blast, again!" He had to at least try to damage their opponent; unchecked, the Dewgong would shred through Giovanni’s two other Pokémon, regardless of which ones he chose.

Both Pokémon readied their attacks, firing them at the same time. This time Nidoking’s aim stayed true, connecting with the Dewgong even as Nidoking took the second Ice Beam hard on the chest. It stumbled again, but Giovanni had already withdrawn its Poké Ball. A disappointing performance, but it had managed to do something, at least. He called it back just as Nidoking hit the ground, fainted.

With the Dewgong sufficiently weakened, Giovanni was certain Nidoking’s counterpart could finish it off. He called out Nidoqueen, and the blue ground-type let out a roar that turned heads around them. Giovanni grinned, and across from him his opponent did the same.

"Thunderbolt!" 

"Dewgong, Rest!"

Nidoqueen roared again, thrusting its head forward. A blast of electricity shot forth from its horn, fast as lightning and just as deadly. And rather than shutting its eyes and regaining its strength, the Dewgong stared wide-eyed at the oncoming attack, wailing as the electricity hit it.

Its trainer clenched her fist, but called the Dewgong back after it fainted on the deck. "Nice moves," she said. "See how you like _this_!" She released her next Pokémon, and a Kingdra appeared to hover between them.

For someone who didn’t know who he was, she certainly had a read on counters for his team. Thunderbolt was no longer the best play, and Giovanni didn’t have any dragons of his own to take hers down. Nidoqueen would have to do for now, and Giovanni would have to hope she was out of water-types. 

"Surf!" she called, spurring her Pokémon into action. The Kingdra conjured a giant wave of crystalline water, and Nidoqueen widened its stance to take the impact. Water surged over it; Giovanni lost sight of its blue scales as it took the brunt of the attack, but when the water faded down it was still standing, hurt but not incapacitated.

"Earthquake, now!" Giovanni called. A golden glow surrounded Nidoqueen before sharp rocks erupted from the ground beneath Kingdra with a booming crack. 

The Pokémon cried out, but its trainer was undeterred. "Finish it with Surf!" she commanded, pointing directly at Nidoqueen. Kingdra began to gather energy for another wave, and Giovanni pulled out Nidoqueen’s Poké Ball.

It would undoubtedly go down as Kingdra’s trainer had said if he left it in to take the hit. He didn’t have many options; most of his team had a double weakness to water, and those that didn’t were liable to go down instantly if luck wasn’t on their side.

With no time left to make the call, Giovanni withdrew Nidoqueen and sent out Marowak, just in time for the Surf to crash down upon it. Marowak was knocked to the ground, washed around by the residual current. "Get up!" Giovanni commanded.

Their opponent barked a short laugh. "You can’t seriously expect it to—" She stopped mid-sentence as Marowak staggered to its feet, supporting itself with its club. 

His gamble had paid off, and Giovanni wasted no time in taking advantage of it. "Use Bonemerang!" 

Marowak sent its club spinning at the Kingdra with all its focus, collapsing on the deck the moment the bone left its hand. It hit the Kingdra hard with an audible _crack_ , and—as its trainer cried out, "No!"—came spinning back around it whack it across the back of its skull. The Pokémon fell from the air, collapsing on the deck, and Marowak reached a paw up to grab its club as it returned.

Their opponent wore an agitated look as she called the Kingdra back. In its place she released a Sneasel, and Giovanni had to hold back a victorious grin. Even with both his Pokémon weakened, he could win this. She must have been out of viable counters; how disappointing for her.

"Finish it off," she said. "Icicle Crash."

Marowak didn’t have a chance. A dozen pointed icicles appeared in the air above it and came crashing down, knocking the weakened ground-type out instantly.

Giovanni returned Nidoqueen to the field, and the dual-type glanced over its shoulder at him. He gave a nod, eyes narrowed, and Nidoqueen returned the gesture before facing its opponent once again.

"Icicle Crash!"

The attack repeated, driving Nidoqueen down to all fours. Its shoulders shuddered, but Giovanni didn’t need to speak a single word to encourage it to rise. It stood on its own, a low warning growl in the back of its throat.

"Earthquake."

It was over in an instant. The quake knocked Sneasel to the ground, and the resulting stones crashed down upon it. When they vanished, the Pokémon was left sprawled out on the deck, unmoving. Its trainer recalled it brusquely, then closed the distance between herself and Giovanni. 

"Nice job," he said, recalling his own Pokémon.

She shrugged. "Could’ve been better. You got lucky with that Marowak."

"I did," he agreed. He’d been unlucky with Focus Blast, but he didn’t feel the need to bring it up. "Still want that rematch?"

She pushed up her sunglasses so that they rested on top of her head and revealed a mischievous expression. "Eventually. Right now I’m wondering if you have any plans for tonight."

Her eyes were sapphire blue, as vibrant as the ocean around them. Giovanni moved closer to her, shrugging and cocking his head to the side. "I believe do now," he said. 

In return he received a quirk of the lips and huff of laughter. "I’m Victoria. Nice to meet you."

"Call me Giovanni."

She hummed. "Nice to meet you, Gio."


	5. in which Giovanni escalates the situation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another content warning this chapter for this gun violence and death in case you need to skip!

Goldenrod’s underground was home to Johto’s most notorious gang: the Red Dragonite. They were nearly equivalent to Team Rocket in their respective region, which meant they’d become problematic to Rocket’s plans for expansion.

"Well? You got the money or what?" Their leader smirked at Giovanni, leaning back in his chair. He'd been unpleasant throughout their entire meeting, condescending to Giovanni and his men as if they were his own lackeys to mistreat. Giovanni had caught a flash of a handgun under his jacket, though he wasn’t sure if that had been intentional.

Regardless, he’d had it with the disrespect. He was on orders from Madame Boss to be _smart_ about dismantling the rival gang, but his patience was not limitless. The gang might have greater numbers than Team Rocket here, but they’d been cocky enough not to take away their Pokémon, and that alone would be their undoing.

"Of course _,_ " he said, dragging the words out as though he had no choice but to speak them despite finding it highly distasteful. "Right here." He gestured to the grunt beside him and the briefcase he carried. The man handed it over, and Giovanni placed it down on the table. 

The gang leader looked at him, raising his eyebrows. "Go on, then. Open it. I don't have all day."

Giovanni said nothing, but clicked open the clasps and lifted up the top of the case. Stacks of Pokédollar bills filled it, mint fresh and worth thousands. It was meant to be the money they owed the Dragonite for poaching on their territory. They were all counterfeit, of course, but Giovanni might’ve handed them over if the leader hadn’t been so disrespectful. Too late for kindnesses now. Team Rocket was a name to be respected, and Giovanni was going to show their leader exactly what happened when they were crossed.

Using the cover of the case he thrust a hand into his coat and grabbed two Poké Balls, throwing them to either side. The action and resulting red glow caused a commotion to break out; his grunts followed suit, trained to recognize when plans were changing. Members of the rival gang lunged for his teammates, and their leader stood up abruptly. He reached for his handgun and aimed it at Giovanni, barrel pointed directly at his chest. Their eyes met and he pulled the trigger—only for the bullet to _ping_ off the rocky arm that had extended in front of him.

If he’d aimed for the head it might’ve been slightly more intimidating. Did he really think Giovanni walked into rival territory without a bulletproof vest? Rhydon was highly effective as a shield, though; maybe if the rest of the man’s crew were similarly armed he might’ve reconsidered such an approach, but he could tell when one was carrying a weapon, and their leader was the only one who posed that particular threat.

Rhydon lunged forward, smashing the desk like the cheap particleboard it was. The leader shot at him, but the bullets struck his stony body with less impact than a Bullet Seed. He wasn’t deterred in the slightest, and he pinned the man against the wall, roaring in his face and bashing his arm hard enough to force him to drop the gun. The man let out a hoarse cry, his weapon clattering to the ground.

Giovanni bent to pick it up, taking his time to emphasize how little threat the man and his team posed. Kangaskhan covered the movement, punching back an enemy grunt and knocking him out cold as he made a move for Giovanni. Both sides were now fighting with Pokémon, and behind him the cramped space was quickly becoming a battle ground, moves flying left and right. Their Arbok and Muk were outmatched by the Sandslash and Drowzee Giovanni had supplied his team with, however. Type advantage. What a marvel.

Giovanni ignored it all, readying the gun to fire again as he pressed it to the man’s temple. "Call off your men," he said.

The leader glared at Giovanni and made a weak attempt at spitting in his face. Rhydon snarled, pressing down harder until he forced a gasp. The man tried to pry the Pokémon’s arm away to no effect, clearly struggling to breathe with the added weight. 

"I’ll ask once more," Giovanni said. "Call off. Your men." He stared the man in the eyes, watching them dart back and forth.

His expression resolved into one of resignation. "That’s enough," he said. "Put away your Pokémon." His men paused before following the order, both enemy Pokémon vanishing from sight. Giovanni’s grunts grabbed them, pinning their arms behind their backs, while Giovanni lowered the weapon.

A banging on the door startled everyone in the room. "Boss? Thought we heard trouble." 

The arrival of the cavalry seemed to give the man some of his confidence back. Not having a gun pressed to his temple likely helped as well. "You’ll never make it out of here," he said, then shouted, "Get in h—"

Giovanni fired a shot, blood splattering across his face as it connected. The man slumped to the ground. There was shouting behind the door, and Kangaskhan rushed into place to slam it shut just as it began to open. Giovanni held the gun up, aiming at the other two enemy grunts. He shot one, then the other, each falling to the ground like their boss.

"Take their Pokémon," he ordered, turning to do the same to the leader. He had four on him. Giovanni pocketed them all and called Rhydon back, leaving Kangaskhan and the Drowzee the only Pokémon left in the room. The grunts finished collecting their haul, and Giovanni grabbed the briefcase from where it had fallen after Rhydon’s attack. He snapped it shut, handed it to a grunt, and held out Kangaskhan’s Poké Ball.

"Be ready," he commanded. 

Drowzee’s trainer nodded, and Giovanni activated his Poké Ball. " _Now!"_

Kangaskhan disappeared and door slammed open instantly. Grunts poured in, but their shouting faded out to nothing as Giovanni felt the lurch in his stomach that meant Drowzee had successfully Teleported.

They were back on street level, in an alley behind the train station. Just as they’d planned. …Well. They were a little bloodier than planned. Giovanni thought of the Dragonite leader’s face in the split second before he pulled the trigger. That abject fear—Giovanni hadn’t felt anything in the moment, but now his heart was pounding and the cold metal in his hand felt twice as heavy as before. He’d killed three of them in there. Because one of them had disrespected him.

Giovanni forced his attention back to the present, looking up to see the grunts staring at him, awe in their eyes. There would be time to deal with all of that later. He pulled a handkerchief from his jacket and wiped off the worst of the blood on his face, then tossed it to the messiest of the two. 

"Clean up. We’ve got a train to catch."

"Yes, _sir_!"


	6. in which Giovanni has too many responsibilities.

Giovanni was _tired_. Between his duties at Team Rocket and his obligations with the Gym, not to mention his _son_ , he’d been running himself ragged for the past few months trying to balance both lives. It didn’t help that it was summer, the time when most trainers chose to embark on the Kanto League challenge. He’d had so many challengers, he worked practically nine to five every day of the week. It was tedious work too; none of the trainers were at all prepared to face him, and his Pokémon consistently tore through their teams.

His mother was part of the problem as well. While he spent his days working at the Gym, his nights were occupied by assignments from the Boss. He’d planned raids, developed recruitment strategies, debriefed grunts after their missions, got in contact with potential buyers, maintained records and done inventory dozens of times; he was nothing short of an _executive_ at this point, though he still had no official title within the Team. Everything in his life revolved around work of one type or another, and every day had become the same tedious, tiresome routine. When he did get the chance to collapse into his bed, it was only for a short few hours, and then it was back to business.

Which was why, when a young, pink-haired grunt knocked on his office door after he’d just laid down on his couch for a short nap, Giovanni was furious enough to seriously contemplate strangling the kid with his idiotic whip.

“ _This had better be important_ ,” he snarled upon opening the door.

The boy visibly gulped and saluted him sharply before stuttering out his message. “M-M-Madame Boss would l-like to speak to you, s-sir!”

Oh, not _her._ What could she possibly want _now?_ It was as though the woman could sense it whenever he had a moment’s peace. “Fine. Out of the way,” he said, shoving past the grunt. 

The walk to his mother’s office was not a long one, but it stretched out into forever as he thought about all the work he was about to be assigned, and the work he’d already done that had gone entirely unrecognized. He didn’t knock when he arrived, as was expected of him, but he was too frustrated to check himself.

His mother sat behind her desk, looking entirely unfazed by his abrupt and unannounced arrival. He hadn’t been looking to get a rise out of her, but at the sight of her perfectly placid expression he became a little more annoyed.

“Keep the theatrics to a minimum and take a seat, will you?” she asked, raising her eyebrows slightly.

Giovanni nearly said something in response, but any word he spoke at this point would be ‘theatrical’ and therefore a validation of her snide remarks. He wasn’t so upset yet that he would fall for that. Instead he sat down on the chair in front of her desk and awaited her instructions, wondering if it might be possible for him to go through the whole meeting without saying a word.

She looked him over for what became an uncomfortably long amount of time, and Giovanni’s anticipation escalated with every second. Finally, she sighed and leaned back into her chair. “I’ll skip straight to the point since I’ve already made my decision and no amount of attitude on your part is going to change it.” Another once-over and she said, “You’ve done well at everything I’ve asked from you. I know it wasn’t easy, but that was the _point_. It takes more than just practical knowledge run Team Rocket. You have to be able to apply it.”

_Run_ Team Rocket? She couldn’t possibly—

“I’m retiring, Gianni. You’re going to be the Boss now.”

—she could. It felt like something out of a dream, to hear her say that, but now that it was actually happening Giovanni didn’t feel the way he’d thought he would. Team Rocket had always been lead by his mother; part of him thought she might never leave.

“Once everything is sorted out, I’ll be leaving Kanto and you will take over for me. Then you can do whatever you want. Fire my executives if you’d like, I don’t care. I won’t tell you how to run things once I’m gone. Although I would ask that you not let my research on Mew go to waste. You know how much it means to me.”

Giovanni nodded, still too taken aback to speak. Was he supposed to thank her? To say something emotional and poignant? His own feelings were in such shambles it would be impossible to put them into words; he hoped she didn’t expect him to try.

But she didn’t. Instead, she shrugged at him, smiling with her mouth closed. “That’s all I wanted to say. We’ll talk more later.” She looked down at the papers on her desk in a clear dismissal, but Giovanni didn’t move. “Leave now,” she added without even looking up, waving her hand at him.

Maybe it was inappropriate to leave without a word, but Giovanni stood and did just that. With a sense of finality, he decided it would be the last order he ever followed.


	7. in which Giovanni dabbles in parenting.

It wasn’t as though Giovanni didn’t _want_ to spend time with his son—he did. It was just that, sometimes, most times, there were more important things to be done. Team Rocket didn’t run itself, after all. But it was Father’s Day, and Giovanni had been informed that Silver had a gift to give him. He’d taken the afternoon off—an inconvenience if there ever was one—but Silver had been very pleased to see him after arriving home.

Silver dashed straight into his room and came running back out holding the present, shouting, “Happy Father’s Day!” He hopped up onto the couch and held it out for Giovanni to take, swinging his legs with enthusiasm.

The gift was wrapped very nicely, and Giovanni suspected heavy involvement on the part of the grunts assigned to Silver’s care. What could be inside? A tie? Silver was visibly more excited about the unwrapping than Giovanni was, and so he tried to show a bit more appreciation for the gesture. 

He sat down beside Silver and tore the paper off with a humoring smile, revealing a plain brown box. Inside was a mug—he should have guessed—and on it, painted in Silver’s shaky handwriting, was written ‘World’s Best Dad.’

How trite. He was hardly expecting anything, but the generic sentiment somehow still managed to disappointment.

“Thank you,” he said, looking down at it again before putting it back in the box.

“It’s true!” Silver said, his eyes bright. “No one else’s dad has people who do whatever they say! And you’re the strongest gym leader ever, right?”

The strongest? Was that really what his son thought of him? It came as something of a surprise to Giovanni. Admittedly, he hadn’t had much time for the kid since becoming leader of Team Rocket. It wasn’t ideal, but Giovanni made sure Silver was always being cared for, at least. He’d imagined it would be hard for a child to idolize someone who was so rarely present in his life. But... apparently that was not the case. 

Giovanni couldn’t help but smile a bit smugly when he said, “Yes. The strongest trainer _anywhere._ ”

“Yeah!” Silver bounced up and down. “I saw you battle, you beat them so fast! And you were so cool the whole time! Other trainers yell and stuff but you never get mad like that.”

This was only his young son talking, who knew very little about how the world actually worked, but Giovanni couldn’t help feeling pleased by the praise. He chuckled. “That’s right. Your dad is number one in the world,” he said. It felt ridiculous, but from Silver's smile and flurry of nods it seemed he was saying the right things. The expression was infectious, apparently. Before he could reconsider, Giovanni stood and scooped Silver up into his arms.

Silver gasped as he was lifted up, and as Giovanni straightened back out he was momentarily surprised by the difficulty of it. Silver had gotten heavier than he remembered.

Closer than before, Giovanni looked up directly into his son's eyes. “Thank you for the mug. It’s very nice,” he said, sincerity coming more easily now.

Silver shrugged and looked aside, quiet in the face of such attention. “I had a little help,” he mumbled.

“I know." That much was obvious. Though, his initial assumption that the sentiment had been suggested to Silver by one of his Team didn't ring true anymore. "Still, I’m glad you feel that way. I know I’m not… around, as often as you might like.” The admission made his throat constrict. He hadn't planned to say that. He wasn’t obligated to justify his actions to a child. He had every reason in the world to not be around, Silver would understand, if not now then when he was older, there was no reason to—

Silver leaned his head against Giovanni’s shoulder. “That’s okay,” he said, voice soft and entirely too understanding. “I know you’re busy.”


	8. in which Giovanni almost learns something.

The Pokémon floated in its tank, curled in on itself and strung up on tubes and wires. It’d been growing steadily over the past several months, and Giovanni had been told it was nearly developed enough to wake up fully. ‘It’s dreaming,’ Fuji had told him. ‘Not quite aware of the world around it, but sensitive to it. It may be able to feel our thoughts or movements, but only distantly.’

They’d advised him to not be alone with it until they were certain they could control it, but Giovanni made a habit of visiting the lab at odd hours, when business with the League or Rocket brought him near the island and the scientists had finally retired for the night. There was never anything new to see that Dr. Fuji and his team hadn’t already informed him of, but Giovanni liked to watch it nonetheless. His creation. He might not have been able to do it without his scientists, but it was his funding and his use of his mother’s Mew research that made the Pokémon a reality.

He had been patient during the entire project. Setback after setback derailed their progress until _finally_ they’d had something to show for it. The beginning of a new life that grew and grew until it was no longer merely an idea, but solid and real. It was weak, at times—the life inside it flickered and threatened to die out—but time and again the Pokémon pulled through. Mewtwo. The result of years’ worth of work into genetic engineering, selectively recombining the mythical Pokémon’s DNA until they’d created the basis for the most powerful Pokémon to ever exist.

It’d been costly—almost unsustainable. He had to cut back drastically, halting plans for a full expansion into Johto and dialing back on most of Team Rocket’s activities. The gang carried on but only barely, going all in to support Dr. Fuji’s work. Mewtwo would either make them all rich, or it would harm Team Rocket irreparably; either way, their fates were sealed.

Giovanni placed a hand on the glass, lukewarm from the solution within it. He could see it now: Mewtwo at his side, and Kanto crumbling beneath them. It would be the perfect tool to secure complete control over the region and solidify his place in history. He’d never been more proud of anything Team Rocket had done.

Something shifted in the tank, and Giovanni returned from his imaginings to focus on the Pokémon, unsure if the movement had been real or just a trick of the light. He stared into the tank, and sure enough it happened again. Mewtwo’s head shook almost imperceptibly. Giovanni stared. He’d been told it sometimes moved in its sleep, responding to stimulus or just twitching reflexively, but he’d never seen it himself.

Fascinated, he watched as the movement became more pronounced. Almost as though it was slowly… waking up. The moment the thought occurred to him, Giovanni stepped back and pulled his hand away from the glass. But as his fingertips left the surface, the restless movements halted and Mewtwo’s eyes snapped open, glowing luminescent purple.

The effect was instantaneous. Giovanni felt frozen to the spot, the lab around him lost to darkness. In its place was glass, rising bubbles, semi-transparent fluid, and beyond it—Giovanni saw himself from Mewtwo’s perspective, features thrown into shadow.

The Pokémon lifted a hand, looking down at itself and the wires attached to its skin. Giovanni felt a surge of anger that was not his own, and Mewtwo looked back up at him. The moment their eyes met he felt his thoughts fray. Memories blurred by with no rhyme or reason, accompanied by a headache so splitting he might have dropped to his knees if he could move at all.

He could not control the images flashing inside his head but he was _trying_ , scrambling to make sense of what was happening and shove away the rising fear that definitely belonged only to him.

It wasn’t working. Pain washed everything out. Giovanni couldn’t move, couldn’t _see_. He wanted to cry out but his throat was as immobile as the rest of him, helpless under the control of his creation. He was losing. He could feel it all slipping away. Everything he’d cared about… Rocket and Persian, _Silver…_

As he thought the word, a flash of his son crossed his mind. Mewtwo’s intrusion seemed to falter slightly. The pain lessened and Giovanni latched on to the only relief he’d felt, conjuring another image—Silver holding his hand, Silver playing in his office, Silver laughing…

Silver as a baby in his arms, followed directly by the young Mewtwo, eyes closed and floating peacefully in the chamber. Silver calling him _Dad_ and the young Mewtwo opening its eyes and looking up at him.

The Pokémon lingered on those memories. Giovanni no longer knew who was in control, but there came another: Silver, as he was now, sleeping against Persian while Giovanni draped a blanket over him.

The image seemed to pause, then transitioned into one of Mewtwo, still sleeping. As the memories blurred back and forth into one another and the pain faded to a buzz in his head, Giovanni felt a dawning awareness that Mewtwo was communicating something.

When Mewtwo returned to the memory of the word ‘Dad’ backed by a rush of confusion—questioning—Giovanni thought he understood what it was trying to say.

 _You exist because of me,_ he thought.

There was a pause. Then Mewtwo provided several memories—visions?—of its own in short succession: Giovanni standing outside the tank, alone and wearing something different each time. Then came several of Giovanni with the scientists, and then there were the scientists themselves and feelings of fear, of pain that went unheard, of anger that was quickly subdued.

Giovanni took in the memories and felt a cold curl of wrath around his heart. _Dreaming_. That was what Fuji called it. Mewtwo wasn’t _dreaming_ at all. It was clutching at consciousness, afraid when it was aware. How convenient for that to be left out of every report. What good was the most powerful Pokémon ever created if it indiscriminately lashed out every time it awoke? Giovanni was not going to allow the _cowardice_ of scientists to be the undoing of this project.

Mewtwo’s grip on his mind eased then, fading to a lingering presence. Giovanni blinked away the darkness and saw Mewtwo in the tank with his own eyes. Its eyes were open, irises purple and free of their forbidding glow. Giovanni’s hand finally dropped to his side, and he took a stabilizing step back.

The Pokémon’s eyelids drooped, its whole body seeming to curl in on itself. It looked smaller than ever amidst the wires. The attack must have taken a tremendous amount of energy and concentration; whatever drug Fuji’s team had the Pokémon on to keep it subdued was finally catching up. Mewtwo’s eyes fluttered, looking up at him once more before drifting closed.

Giovanni exhaled, lifting a hand to rub his forehead. It ached still, a ringing echoing around his skull, but it was no worse than a bad headache now. He was lucky. If he hadn’t thought of Silver… Giovanni didn’t want to linger on the parallels the Pokémon had drawn there. Mewtwo was a tool like all the rest of his team. A powerful one, a valuable one, but a tool all the same. He couldn’t afford to get sentimental about it, not when another outburst like that could prove fatal.

They needed a better way to control it. Tranquilizers were obviously not the answer, and were proving to be detrimental to the Pokémon’s development. They were going to stop that _immediately,_ and focus their resources on an alternative solution. Mewtwo was obviously ready to wake up, and they needed to be prepared when it did.

Giovanni left the lab, already setting up early morning meetings to discuss the situation. He wouldn’t be sleeping tonight, but it was hardly the first time. Despite the close call, he felt better than ever about the success of their project. Mewtwo was immensely powerful—under Giovanni’s control it would decimate their enemies. Team Rocket would become _unstoppable_. The future he saw was bright as ever, dawning like the sun over the horizon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've always been attached to the anime version of Mewtwo's origin so I'm drawing on that pretty heavily here, even though it contradicts game-verse canon slightly. Just the epilogue left to go!


	9. epilogue: in which Madame Boss is satisfied.

Alola. The entire region was ridiculous and inundated with such horrendous tourism that she often felt like she was walking through the pages of a brochure rather than existing anywhere in the real world.

And yet Madame Boss had been living there, in all meaningful capacity, for the last twelve or so years. She was certain to die there as well. She’d made many more arrangements for that unfortunate inevitability than were strictly necessary, but there were fewer and fewer interesting things to do in her advanced age, and she had come to find carefully planning her dying wishes as entertaining as anything else.

This was her final chapter, and, all in all, she was quite satisfied with the way everything panned out. Regrets, after all, were for those of insufficient strength of character, and it was hardly mere flattery to say that she had never done anything imperfectly in her life. She had done it all exactly as she set out to do it, with the exact results she had desired from the moment she took control of her father's sorry excuse of a gang.

She proved she could rule the entire underground as effortlessly as breathing, and when she grew bored and rich off it she dumped the entire affair on her scapegoat of a son. It was fortunate timing for the poor thing; the way she was running him ragged back in those days, it was only a matter of time before he had an all-out nervous breakdown. Though, in retrospect, handing him the keys to the Team may have only postponed the inevitable.

One might call it ironic, how awfully fond she became of her darling Gianni after news of Rocket’s demise reached her. She never cared to learn the details beyond the headline; it was much more fun to imagine the circumstances on her own, each tale different and more outlandish than the last. Noble Gio, who gave up his criminal ways in order to pursue his dream of studying Pokémon. Giovanni the wise, who saw things going south and instructed them to lay low until their time came once again. And the coward Rocket Boss, who abandoned his Team before his neck could hit the chopping block.

She loved each one dearly, if only in the abstract. They made for great conversation at parties; she could use them in any way she liked, and it made those events so much more entertaining. Refined gentlemen who had never accomplished anything noteworthy in all their long lives scowled to hear of her successful son, who was not only tremendous at Pokémon battling but fabulously wealthy and one of the brightest minds of his generation. And at the very same soirées, handsome young men delighted in tales of her shameful scion, who was a constant failure and an embarrassment at everything he attempted—unlike themselves, of course, who were positively overflowing with potential and the glow of their undoubtedly bright futures.

At least he had done something with her Mew research. An entirely new Pokémon—now that was something worthwhile. Something meaningful. That, at least, she could be proud of.

Yes, all things considered she couldn’t be more pleased with her life. Such satisfaction was a victory of the highest order, which no one would ever be able to take away from her. She’d won. In all things, no matter what anyone would ever say.

From the shade of her umbrella she waved over a cabana boy and ordered a martini. As he hurried off to fetch her another glass, she let out a sigh and closed her eyes, leaning back into her lounge chair. The breeze was warm, the sound of the waves was soft and soothing, and together with the alcohol they chased away thoughts of ice and collapsing snow that seemed to always linger just beneath the surface of her thoughts these days.

It was perfect, really. Everything she’d always wanted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the end! I hope you enjoyed—like I said at the beginning, each chapter was written at a different time and out of order, but looking at them all together I felt like they actually had enough connection to work well as one story. Hopefully that was the case!


End file.
